


Time is Fleeting

by anaraine



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 16:28:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17512016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anaraine/pseuds/anaraine
Summary: It was like looking at an old photograph. The Christophe in front of him was not the man of twenty-five that he knew so well.





	Time is Fleeting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Allekha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allekha/gifts).



     **chris:** i'm not sure i ever thanked you.  
**chris:** _merci_

Victor blinked, his thumb hovering over the text on his phone and his water bottle held halfway to his mouth. Chris' texts were frequently incomprehensible, but that was usually due to his confusing emoji use - not statements that were patently false. Chris had thanked Victor many times over the years, for many different things.

He hesitated over a reply before finally sending a simple '?' and putting the text out of his mind. It probably wasn't important. For all he knew, Chris was thanking him for a blowjob some years past. (In which case, Chris was still wrong: Victor considered his breathless appreciation and inability to stand an _excellent_ thank you.)

It was only as he was leaving the ice rink after practice did he give it another thought, when Chris' number flashed on his phone.

" _Allô_?" he answered absently, throwing his skate bag into the back seat of his car.

"Is this Victor Nikiforov?"

Victor frowned. Chris sounded... young. And like he had been crying.

"My name is Christophe Giacometti - I don't know if you remember me, but you gave me your phone number at a banquet after the Cup of Russia?"

"Chris, of course I remember you," Victor said uneasily. There were many things wrong with Chris' hurried introduction, but first and foremost was that he was speaking in English, not French. "We spoke this morning."

"Oh," Chris said softly, exhaling loud enough that his phone's microphone caught it. "Good. I, um, didn't know who else to call."

"Not your coach?" Victor tried to tease.

Chris' responding laugh sounded tight. "I tried my coach. But he must have changed his number some time since 2008."

It felt like the last puzzle piece clicking into place. "Chris, did you jump?"

"Yes," Chris confirmed. "I jumped. I'm on an arched bridge that goes over the Neva. A girl I talked to told me what it was, but I can't pronounce it. Bol-sho-something?"

"I can be there in fifteen minutes," Victor said. "Which side are you on?"

"The side with the fancy bronze plaque."

"Maybe twenty minutes," Victor amended. "Stay by the plaque. I'll come find you."

**◊◊◊**

In truth, it took Victor eighteen minutes to find Chris, who was sitting next to the plaque and looking a little miserable. Part of that was probably the situation, but Victor was sure that being underdressed for a Russian September wasn't helping.

"Christophe!" Victor called as he got closer, and Chris looked up at him.

It was a bit eerie, how different he looked. Unlike the the man he knew, this Christophe had only just begun to slim out from the cherubic image he had carried through Juniors, his hair still a solid blond.

Chris squinted at him for a second before his eyes widened. "Victor!"

"You sound so surprised! Do I look so different?"

"No, no. It's just - your hair."

There was a particular note to Chris' tone that Victor hadn't heard in quite a while. It almost felt nostalgic, being able to surprise someone like that.

"Don't you like it?" Victor asked, tossing his head aside with a wink.

The soft pink that colored the apples of Chris' cheeks was gratifying, even when he knew that part of it was probably due to the brisk temperature.

"We should go back to my apartment. It's much warmer there, hmn? And then we can try and contact someone to help you jump back. Yakov probably knows somebody who knows somebody, if we can't get ahold of your coach."

He ushered Chris back to where he'd parked his car and turned the heater up a few notches in deference to his passenger. He tried to keep up a steady stream of light chatter as he drove, but Chris was strangely reticent when it came to responding, and eventually his chatter petered out in favor of watching the road.

His favored parking spot was still empty when they arrived, which was a pleasant surprise considering the time. With his skate bag over his shoulder, Victor led Christophe up the stairs and into his apartment - only to be set upon by Makkachin.

"Hello, Makka," Victor cooed in Russian, leaning into the doggy kisses and stroking his hand down her back. "You remember Chris, don't you?"

Whether she actually did or not was irrelevant, because as a shameless seeker of new people to give her pets, she eeled around Victor to greet him with an enthusiastic bark.

Chris obligingly reached down to scritch behind her ears.

"She'll keep you there forever if you let her," Victor warned, even as he walked off to drop his skate bag in the bedroom.

He returned to find Chris sitting on his couch, murmuring to Makkachin in French as he dispensed pets. "You're a good girl, aren't you?"

"She's the best girl," Victor said indulgently.

Chris startled. "You speak French?"

"You taught me. Well, mostly."

"Oh." He paused, considering. "Does that mean I can speak Russian?"

"Some," Victor offered. "Not enough to hold an interview, I think, but enough to order from a restaurant. I'm not as good as a teacher." He laughed a little, remembering the kisses he got as rewards for learning phrases. "And you probably gave me more incentive to learn than I did you."

"So we know each other well, then?" Chris' voice cracked halfway through his question, his cheeks flushing a delicate pink.

Victor limited himself to a smile instead of a laugh. It had been a very long time since he'd seen Chris blush like that, and he didn't want to deprive himself of the sight by drawing attention to it. " _Very_ well."

"Well, that's... good."

"Only good?" Victor teased. "Chris, I think I'm hurt. We deserve better adjectives than 'good.'"

"What kind of adjectives do you use, then?" Chris asked, a real smile beginning to brighten his face.

"Amazing!" Victor began, counting on his fingers. "Gorgeous! Fantastic!"

This time, Chris' laugh sounded genuine and pleased. "You really think so?"

Victor had forgotten how shy Chris had been, those first few years after he had moved up to Seniors. "I do."

Chris' smile widened and he leaned forward, dislodging Makkachin's muzzle from his lap. "That means— Oh!"

It took a second for Victor to realize what had happened, as the surprised look on Chris' face lingered for a second before he disappeared.

"Well, I guess I won't need to call Yakov after all, hmn, Makka?"

Makkachin woofed in agreement and padded over to him for pets, now that Chris had jumped back.

It was probably for the best, considering how upset he'd been when Victor found him, and an extended stay in the future would have messed with his training regimen.

But Victor was slightly disappointed anyways. It had been a pleasant surprise, getting to see Chris at that age again. He wished he'd gotten to take some photos.

Still, with _his_ schedule free again, he needed to make dinner. And with his attention focused elsewhere, he missed when Chris finally replied.

     **chris:** you were very kind when i needed it.


End file.
